


ficlets

by Colordrained



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5x04, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean in Panties, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Emotions, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Grieving Sam, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Panty Kink, Sick Castiel, Sick Character, Sick Dean, samjess - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colordrained/pseuds/Colordrained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>each chapter is an individual spn ficlet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. on halloween

**Author's Note:**

> bc I built a blanket fort and watched Paranorman on Halloween and all I could think was deancas

"This is factually inaccurate."

Dean rolls his eyes for the fourteenth time. 

"I know, Cas. Accuracy ain't a high priority on a horror movie set."

Cas sighs dramatically, as if this truth pained him, "Why make a movie entirely based on false information?"

"Angel," Dean shifts under the weight of too many blankets to face his boyfriend, "It's supposed to be scary. Entertaining." 

Shaking his head, Cas rubs his eyes in the dim light, "I think it's dumb." 

"I think _you're_ dumb," Dean retorts, laying on his back again, "Shitty horror films are the epitome of good Halloween celebration, okay, so we gotta watch at least one." 

Considering the thought for a moment, Castiel reaches for another Twix, then thumps back down onto the giant pillow pile under his torso.

"We can finish this one, and then I get to kiss you for at least twenty minutes," Cas says.

"Sounds fair. Now c'mere," Dean pulls him in by the shoulder, allows Cas's head to rest on his chest. Their matching Halloween socks bump under the covers. 

Fifteen more minutes into the movie, Castiel visibly flinches at a couple of the jump scares, and makes a nervous sound when the scary masked-murderer dude revs a drill inches from his awaiting victim's face. If Cas were human, it'd be one thing, but with his grace back...

"You okay?" Dean murmurs.

"Yes," Cas looks up at him, "I think I'd like the cute animated movies better, though. This reminds me of the torture I underwent during Naomi's reign." 

Dean's eyes widen a bit at that, "Shit, sorry, I didn't,  
uh—"

"It's okay. I'm okay."

Dean pets his hair, "I know you're okay, but you don't gotta watch this. Hang on—"

He fumbles around for the remote amongst the blanket mound, eventually settling his fingers around it. 

"You want Coraline or Nightmare before Christmas?" Dean offers.

Cas "Hmm"s for a while, so Dean makes the (very difficult) choice for him.

"Nightmare before Christmas is less creepy," Dean explains, "And it think you'll like the songs."

"Mm," Cas grins up at him, "Thanks for switching it."

"No problem, Angel," Dean kisses him on the temple, settling back down next to Cas. He likes pressing as much of himself into Cas's side as possible.

"You know," Cas starts in his low, soft tone, "I love when you call me Angel. It's dumb, but I like it." 

Dean looks at him in a way that never gets old, wondrous and sincere, and simply kisses his cheek. He kiss it again for good measure, just to make sure Cas gets the point.

"Love you," Dean mumbles into his skin, "a lot."

Cas drapes an arm over Dean's chest, tilts his head in a not-too-terribly-comfortable way, and presses his lips purposefully to Dean's.

When they part, Cas looks gently into his eyes, "I know you wanna watch the movie and so do I, but I also want to kiss you for a few minutes."

Dean nods slightly, lifting the weight of the blankets a little so Cas can move on top of him.

"I don't—I don't wanna make out, really, just—" Cas starts.

"I gotcha, Angel. Here," Dean pulls his face to meet his, then puts both hands on Cas's thighs, lets the angel cradle his jaw. Cas tastes like mint hot chocolate. 

Ten minutes later, Jack Skellington is exploring Christmas Town, and Dean and Cas are in love.


	2. 5x04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc I have the headcanon that this is when Dean realized he was in love

Dean had gotten so used to the perpetual movement of interstate cruising that this sudden of a halt was dizzying.

"We had an appointment."

His head spun.

He swung a hand up to grip Cas' shoulder, in part to remind himself that the angel was real and in part to keep himself from falling over.

He meant the next sentence in a few ways:

 

_Future you isn't quite you, Cas. Keep your head straight._

_Hold tight to your origins, it'll do you good. You're celestial and powerful and you should always be._

_I love you, oh my god, I'm in love with you._

 

"Don't ever change."

He'd hoped the look in his eyes would give him away. He'd hoped Cas would know.

Instead of crying or kissing or anything else profoundly cliché, Cas just stared right back at him with the same goddamn expression. 

As if struck with a heavy dose of inertia, a blow to the chest, an inescapable tidal wave, Dean fumbled for purchase on something familiar.

Problem is, none of it was familiar in the slightest. This was a whole new ball game as far as Dean was concerned. 

He was in _love_.

The halt was not unlike the night his mom died, not unlike losing Sam so many times, not unlike realizing the was in charge of the fucking apocalypse, but also not unlike a slow ride down the Oregon coast, the smiles of people he saved, two beers and an old movie.

The best sort of halt: terrifying and sweet. It might have made Dean dizzy, but that was perfectly, entirely, wholly, good.


	3. panties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc of this ask
> 
> _headcanon: whenever dean is upset or has had a bad day, Cas always goes out and buys him a new pair of panties, Dean makes sure to have bad days more often to see cas getting off to him getting off in pink lace panties_

“D'wanna tall” 

“Dean, sweetheart, I don't— I can’t hear you with your face pressed into the pillow like that.”

“I don’t wanna talk, Cas,” Dean rolls slowly over onto his side, “Had a shitty day. Love you, but don’t wanna talk.” 

Cas rises from the end of the bed and walks over to Dean’s side, places a gentle hand on his shoulder blade, “S'okay,” he’s quiet for a second, “just stay here and rest. I’ll be back in a half hour to help however I can, okay?” 

Dean nods into the pillow and hums an “Mmm” in agreement. 

Dean already knows: this is routine. When Cas comes back in thirty five minutes later with a tiny black bag in his hand, Dean won’t question it. He’ll strip off his clothes and enjoy.

 

\- - - 

 

This pair is dark plum; a beautiful wine-burgundy made entirely of silk lace, with the cheeks cut to show off the thickness of his ass. Dean likes the panties.

Cas pulls his torso down the bed a bit so he can grab Dean’s legs and slip them on. They hug his thighs and strain against his hips, just allowing the outline of his dick to show through the front. 

“You wanna get yourself off? Or you want me to help?” Cas asks, kneeling between Dean’s calves.

“You can watch. Get yourself off if you want,” Dean grins, “Come on my new panties.”

“Fuck,” Cas’s head drops, “Okay.”

Dean puts on a show, loving how pretty and warm and cared for he feels. He grinds up into his hand through the lace, tosses his head back. Cas’s cheeks blush furiously above him. Dean loves all of it.

Dean especially loves how obscene it looks after he’s come inside and Cas has come on the dark colored lace. Cas seems to like that too. 

They lay flush against each other even as they ache from oversensitivity, and Dean enjoys Cas’s lips on his neck. 

“I gotta have more bad days,” Dean smirks.


	4. samjess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc of this ask
> 
> _headcanon: Sam makes lists for conducting research and categorizing things bc it's a study technique Jess taught him their Freshman year. Dean will find bits of torn notebook paper and/or post it notes with Sam's scrawlings and, though he noticed it only after Jess died, he doesn't say a word about it._

Sam went out to smoke. He did it more often now, as it was mid September and being outside was always more favorable than being in. Dean tried to get him to stop this past spring, but hey, everyone has a way to cope.

Research for the hunt was going steady, successful, and boring as hell. Pagan gods were interesting and all, but text after text explaining the moon alignment for human sacrifice got old pretty fast. 

Sam never minded it. He loved learning ever since Stanford, Dean knew that. Dean also knew that Jess was half that reason; she taught Sam damn near everything about taking care of himself, good study habits, being a decent student. There was proof; Sam still made the lists.

Tedious, always in green ink, always bulleted with alphanumeric subcategories. Chronological or categorical based on topic. Intricate. Thoughtful. Things that appealed to Sam always, but enforced by Jess. 

She showed him the list-making art freshman year before his first round of midterms. Sam still tells the story of when they first met in the library, where he watched her make list after list after list, and where she sat him right down to join her.

Sam made the lists for everything now: hunts, aliases, travel, supply runs, bunker organization. Everything. Always organized as if hoping to show Jess even now that ‘see, I learned, I cherished you’.

The other thing was the paper scraps— little frayed, torn, beaten pieces of loose leaf that had been folded over in Sam’s too-large fingertips one too many times. “I love you"s and “please be here"s and “I miss you"s, and Dean’s favorites, "you were golden”. These were in all ink colors, hell, even colored pencil. All the time, everywhere, as if Sam couldn’t contain where his love for Jess roamed.

Dean always pocketed them (and he’s pretty sure Sam knows that), not for any reason but that Dean wanted to keep them for the days that Sam lost it.   
Maybe it was all a futile attempt to hold on, maybe it was beautifully sentimental. Either way, Dean’s got a few jars of paper scraps on his highest shelf that he plans on keeping for a while.


	5. to stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc of this ask
> 
>  
> 
> _headcanon: dean loves one night stands. he loves the way he feels after them, when he leaves them in the middle of the night. he loves feeling in control. but the moment cas steps in, he is no longer in control over the way he feels in the middle of the night_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> also, I need to write more trans* characters.

The mattress barely creaks when he slides off of it, which is lucky. Dean likes when sneaking out is easy.

Sage is this one's name, a pretty sienna-skinned girl from the bar. Sage has tight rings of black hair that were fun to pull, a full pair of lips that were fun to kiss, and a pretty dick that was fun to sit on. Dean likes Sage. 

He skims his eyes over her just-visible curves, working to slip on his jeans and t shirt. He's pretty sure his shoes are by the door. 

Dean pads softly out of the room and finds a pen and a paper towel in Sage's small apartment kitchen. He takes his time with the lettering:

 _Sage, you're beautiful. Last night was perfect. Sorry to leave, I did love your company. Thanks for the good time and the bruises on my thighs ;) Yours Truly, Dean._

He slides the note to the edge of the counter where she's sure to see it in the morning. 

He puts on his shoes, locks the door behind him, and leaves. The November air is cool on his too-warm cheeks. 

Dean feels together, controlled, tedious. He loves it. He loves the sloppy kissing, dirty slurs, rough fucking, uninhibited moaning, ultimate high, and then the slow sneaking out, gone from the person's life with no warning. There and then gone. Impermanent, blissful, easy. 

He's at a loss six months later when he wakes up at 12:20am on the right side of Castiel's bed. Castiel's bed. The angel's bed. The angel that he's in _love_ with's bed. Yes.

They'd been kissing and hand-holding and shit for about a month, finally after knowing Cas for five years. And last night they had sex. 

It was routine for Dean: kiss, fuck, sleep, leave. Here at 12:20am on the right side of Cas's bed, however, the routine seemed utterly inapplicable. 

_Leave_ , his mind prompts. 

Dean looks at the slope of Cas's shoulder in the dark room. 

_Leave_

Dean watches Cas's chest rise and fall, looks at his mussed up hair, his parted lips, gently closed eyes. 

_Leave_

But he wants to stay. He thinks, at least, he wants to stay—to do so would mean no control, no ease of mind when the sun rose. It would mean trust, vulnerability, confusion. Difficult, uncontrolled, messy things. 

_Leave_

But Dean wants to stay. He sits upright, rubs his face and searched for the right answer. 

"Dean?" Cas mumbles, eyes squinty and tired, "What's wrong?" 

Dean sucks in a breath, extremely aware of how endearing this is, "I—" he breathes, "Do you want me to stay, Cas? Here?" 

Cas shakes his head softly and Dean feels his heart fall to his knees. Cas sits up straight next to him, puts a hand in Dean's hair. 

"Dean, how could— of _course_ I want you to stay. Yes. Dean—" he kisses Dean soft, not sure how this even came about, "Of course." 

Dean breathes in relief, "I wasn't sure, I mean normally after sex I just, I just leave but I didn't know with you, I mean I don't _want_ to leave you, I wanna be with you I just didn't—" 

Cas silences him with another kiss, "Stay. Only if you want, but stay." 

Dean nods softly and leans into Cas, puts his head on Cas's shoulder and lets himself be held, "Okay." 

"Good," Cas murmurs, petting Dean's hair softly. 

Dean thinks of all the other times, all the silent goodbyes and selfish escapes, and decides that maybe he's fine resting in someone else's hands for awhile. 


	6. sick , together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc of this ask:
> 
> _can you write something about sick!dean and sick!cas together?_

"Fuck this," Castiel sighs, slumping back onto the pillows, subsequently banging his head on the headboard. " _Ow_."

Dean grins at the cursing, "I know, it sucks. But the cuddling and movies is nice, right?" 

Cas reaches for another tissue on the bedside, grabs one for Dean while he was at it.

"Sickness..." Cas muses, "so vulnerable. I feel human, but the bad kind. Not like the blood rushing when we kiss or the crying because I care about someone, just..." he searches for the right word, blows his nose to pass the time, "vulnerable."

Silent for a moment, Dean nods, looks softly at his boyfriend with slightly swollen, slightly red, constantly-tearing eyes, "Good news is we're both sick so we can still do this, y'know. And kiss or whatever. Boss Sammy around together," Dean says.

Cas looks at him, gives a feeble smile, "That's true."

They look at each other for a moment in silence before Dean slots their hands together under the blankets and leans over to kiss Cas's cheek.

"If you want," Dean starts, "Or, if you can stand up okay, we can shower in a bit. Should help my allergies and the head congestion and stuff. We can make out without it being disgusting."

Cas smirks, "The standing up part might be difficult, but we can try."

"Good," Dean nods, pressing another kiss to Cas's forehead.

Cas hums, sitting up from Dean's comfort for a second to grab his lemon-honey tea. He coughs first, chest rattling and throat burning, before soothing thing with the tea.

"I still hate this," Cas mutters.

Dean just smiles again, "Wanna finish this movie before we shower?" 

Cas contemplates, and while he doesn't particularly care for the film, he quite likes snuggling, "Yeah. Like thirty more minutes, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Yeah," Cas drapes a leg over Dean's, cuddles into his chest to try and stop the pain in his head, "You're a good sick partner."

Dean chuckles, traces his thumb over Cas's hand, "You're a good sick partner too, babe."


End file.
